


Give Anything

by SharkGirl



Series: Year of Shance [9]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: (but with some imagination...everything will work out fine!), Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Amnesia, Blood, Blood Drinking, Character Turned Into Vampire, Cliffhangers, Drabble, Established Relationship, Light Angst, M/M, Major Character Injury, Sad Ending, Vampires, a long drabble
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-25
Updated: 2019-10-25
Packaged: 2021-01-02 19:29:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21166700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SharkGirl/pseuds/SharkGirl
Summary: Shiro was nearly asleep when an icy feeling overcame him. In the ring, he’d learned to trust his instincts. And that didn’t change now that he’d been set free. And something was telling him there was trouble. Lance had been gone for too long.





	Give Anything

**Author's Note:**

> Hey all! Funny story... No, this is not the Shance/Shklance vampire fic I've been working on (I'm almost done with that, btw!) This is one that I wrote exactly one year ago and never posted. I think maybe I was going to continue it? But it kind of works as a cliffhanger ending, honestly.
> 
> Happy Spoopy Season!!  
Beta'd by the lovely Jes~ Please enjoy!

Shiro struggled to keep his footing, his shoes slipping on the icy, snow-slick rock. He should have changed into his boots, but he hadn’t the time. Hell, if he hadn’t stepped into his trainers before walking out of the bedroom, he would have made the climb up the mountain barefoot.

He nearly slipped again, but caught himself, his arms tightening around the precious cargo they held: a nearly lifeless body. No, he wasn’t that far gone. Shiro would make it to the castle at the mountain’s peak and everything would be fine.

Lance _had _to be fine.

Even if every time Shiro closed his eyes, he could see Lance how he’d found him, bruised and bloody in the alley behind the bar. He never should have let him go out alone.

They’d been lying in bed, Lance’s warm back against Shiro’s chest, when there came a loud crash just outside the window, a story below.

“I’ll go check it out,” Lance had said, slipping out from under the covers and tugging a shirt over his head. Shiro didn’t want him to leave. He was content to ignore the sound and sleep snuggled up together, hidden away in Lance’s little studio above the bar he ran. Shiro’s new home.

“Don’t go,” Shiro half-begged with a yawn. “It’s probably just some kids or something.”

“Or maybe it’s that cat again,” Lance replied, already lacing up his boots. “Poor thing’s been hanging around for weeks,” he went on, a crooked smile on his face. “Maybe this time he’ll come inside and let me feed him properly.”

Shiro bit back a grin. Left to his own devices, Lance would probably take in every stray in the city. After all, he’d taken Shiro in without question. Of course, a human being and a cat were two very different things.

“Then let me go with you,” Shiro amended, pulling the quilt back.

“Nah, I’ve got it,” Lance promised. “You just get some rest,” he said, tugging on his jacket. “Shipment’s coming in tomorrow and I need you in top form to lift all those heavy boxes for me.” He winked and Shiro chuckled. “I’ll be right back, okay?”

“Okay,” Shiro finally acquiesced, throwing the quilt back over his head and burrowing his face in Lance’s pillow. It smelled like his shampoo and the moisturizer he used on his face. Scents that Shiro was beginning to crave more and more. Scents he absolutely loved.

Just like their owner.

And how could he not love Lance? After the other had offered him a job, a home, a place where he felt safe after everything he’d been through. Everything he’d done.

Shiro was nearly asleep when an icy feeling overcame him. In the ring, he’d learned to trust his instincts. And that didn’t change now that he’d been set free. And something was telling him there was trouble. Lance had been gone for too long.

Without another moment’s hesitation, Shiro got out of bed, slipped on his shoes, and made his way down the steps and over to the door that led to the back of the bar. It was late at night, almost morning, so the place was dark and empty.

Shiro crept toward the backdoor, head on a swivel, his eyes and ears open for any sign of Lance’s return. The sensation, like icy fingers clawing up his spine, returned as he rounded the corner, near where they put the recycling. And there, between the bins, was where he found him.

“Lance!”

Shiro shook his head, banishing the memory. He needed to focus on navigating the treacherous path ahead. It had gotten colder the farther he’d climbed and the light snowfall had picked up. He clutched Lance tighter to his chest, willing the other’s heart to keep beating. For him to hold on just a bit longer.

Shiro’s own clothing was soaked in blood, the slick, sticky liquid cold against his skin. But he ignored his discomfort. He’d freeze a million times over if it meant saving Lance.

After what seemed like an eternity, he came to a large, wrought iron gate. It was for show, of course. Not really meant to keep anything in or out. Shiro knew very well that what lay inside the castle could easily take care of any unwanted visitors by barely lifting a finger.

And it was that power which Shiro sought now.

He pushed the gate open, the metal fingers of his prosthesis sticking in the cold, and carried Lance inside. He carefully cradled his head, wincing at the gush of warmth that soaked his fingers. That was not good. He had to hurry.

The wooden double doors were not far from the gate. And for that, Shiro was grateful. He eased Lance’s weight onto one arm and reached up to knock, hoping that the castle’s master was home and not out hunting. After a beat, a small metal panel slid to the side, revealing curious aqua eyes.

“Who iiiiiis iiiiit?” she sang, sounding far too chipper for someone guarding the door of an ancient castle atop of snowy mountain in the middle of the night.

“Shi-” he began, but stopped himself, knowing he needed to use his other name to gain access and the help Lance so desperately needed. “Champion.”

The eyes widened and then crinkled at the corners with glee. “Oh, the master will be quite pleased you’ve come to visit.” The little metal door slid shut. Several weighty locks shifted and then the heavy wooden door swung open. “Come in,” a tall, slender woman greeted him, her eyes flashing and her long, colorful ponytail swishing behind her as she cocked her head to the side.

Shiro didn’t recognize her, but his time in the arena was a blur. The only faces he remembered were the ones of those he’d fought – and killed – and the one of his savior. The man who’d broken him out of his hellish nightmare.

“So, are you going to come in or…?”

That snapped Shiro out of it. He could take a trip down memory lane later. Once Lance was safe.

“Yikes.” She raised her brows as her gaze dropped to Lance’s motionless form. “What happened to him?”

“Where is Prince Lotor?” Shiro interrupted.

“He’s in his chambers,” she replied. “I’ll get him.” Half a second passed and she was gone, down one of the hallways. Shiro knew they moved fast, but it was still jarring. She was back in an instant, grinning with white, pointed teeth. “Right this way…”

Shiro followed her down a long hall to what must have once been a throne room. There was a wide, plush carpet that led to a raised dais, upon which sat an upholstered chair. And in it, the Galran prince himself, Lotor.

The Galra were the oldest and most powerful vampires on Earth. And even though they’d kept Shiro prisoner for years, pitting him in fights against other humans and weakened vampires for entertainment, he knew not all of them were heartless monsters.

“Your highness-”

“My, my,” Lotor mused, rubbing his chin. “The Champion has decided to grace me with his presence.” He grinned. “My father will be most interested in what’s become of you.”

Shiro had momentarily forgotten that, even though quite a bit of time had passed since he’d escaped, it must have seemed no more than a blink of an eye for someone as long-lived as the master of this castle.

But even with the threat of being turned in hanging heavily over his head, Shiro pressed on, walking the length of the room until he was kneeling before the prince.

“I need your help,” he said, bowing his head.

“I can see that.” Lotor stood and then raised his hands. “Leave us.”

Shiro lifted his head just in time to see four others, including the one who’d led him in, disappear in a flash.

“He’s still alive.” Lotor returned to his seat. “But just barely.”

“Please…” Shiro struggled to get back to his feet, balancing Lance in his arms, his prosthesis all but useless from the cold. “Save him.”

“An interesting request, coming from you,” Lotor said, toying with a strand of his long, silver hair. “I would think a killer such as yourself would-”

“_Please!_” Shiro stressed, gripping Lance tighter. He looked down, frightened by how pale the other had become. “Please…” He repeated, softer. “He’s everything to me.”

Lotor hummed thoughtfully. “This is indeed interesting…” He stood up again, walking toward them. “And what shall I receive in return for doing you this large favor?”

“Anything,” Shiro answered without a second thought. “I’ll do anything if you save him.”

Lotor’s eyes flashed. “Excellent.” Then he bent down. “Give him to me. We’ll discuss the details later.”

Lance was on the lighter side, but Lotor was incredibly strong, lifting him as though he weighed nothing. And now, emptyhanded, Shiro hugged himself, ignoring the blood-stained state of his clothing and focusing entirely on Lance, who looked so small in Lotor’s arms.

Lotor clicked his tongue in disapproval. “Sloppy.” It was then that Shiro noticed the marks on Lance’s neck. He’d witnessed many a vampire attack in his life, but no bites as vicious as the one’s Lance had sustained. His stomached roiled. Still, he needed to know.

“Can…can you save him?” he asked, hoping beyond hope. Under the light of the chandelier, Lance’s injuries looked even worse. Especially the gash on the back of his head, his hair soaked and tinted red, clumped together. Shiro’s heart sank.

“My blood is strong,” Lotor said, his gaze sweeping over Lance’s mangled form. “But this…” He sighed. “I believe my only course of action would be to turn him.”

Fear gripped him. Without Lotor, Lance would die. But could Shiro really make that decision for him? Lance, who was so filled with life and sunshine, reduced to a creature that had to live in darkness, surviving by drinking the blood of others?

“He hasn’t the time for you to mull it over,” Lotor bit, pulling Shiro from his thoughts. “Do you want me to save him or not?”

Shiro swallowed. He couldn’t lose him.

“Do what you must.”

During his time as a slave to the Galra, Shiro had seen many of his fellow prisoners drained by hungry vampires. He’d even been bitten himself, on occasion. Though they tended to see how he’d fare on his own, not even offering him any vampire blood to heal his wounds after a fight. Only if he was on the brink of death, would they spare him even a drop.

Still, nothing could prepare him for seeing Lance like that. It took everything in him to keep from charging forward and pushing Lotor off him. And Lance, weak as he was, barely uttered a tiny whimper as Lotor sunk his fangs into the only remaining unmarred flesh of his neck.

Although Shiro had never witnessed a vampire being created, he’d heard about what went into it. The victim had to be completely drained before they could be turned. Of course, with how much blood Lance had lost, he was nearly there.

Shiro sat heavily on the floor as Lotor slit his own wrist, holding it to Lance’s mouth for the other to drink. Had he done the right thing? Would Lance be upset with him when he woke up? Would Lance even wake up at all?

“You should rest.” There was a hand on his shoulder, bringing Shiro back to the present. He turned and saw a different vampire from before. “We’ll get you cleaned up.”

Shiro shrugged the hand off, facing toward Lance once more. “I’m not leaving him.”

“You’d do well to listen to Acxa,” Lotor said, looking up. “When your friend awakens, he’ll need to feed and you’re in no state to assist him.”

Shiro couldn’t argue with that. He was half-frozen and exhausted. A freshly turned vampire was likely to kill him as he was now.

“We’ll bring you to him once you’ve recovered,” Acxa went on. “He won’t awaken until tomorrow night.”

Shiro didn’t want to leave. But Lance was in good hands. Well, perhaps ‘good’ wasn’t the word. But he would be taken care of. And Shiro needed to rest so he could be there when Lance needed him.

“All right.” And with one final glance at his lover, Shiro followed Acxa out of the room.

The day was long. The longest of Shiro’s entire life.

Once he bathed, changed, and ate the food they’d brought him – From where? He wondered – he demanded to be taken to where Lance was.

They’d hidden him away in a room with no windows. In fact, most of the castle was designed that way, probably with its inhabitants in mind. And there Shiro sat, beside the bed where Lance lay. He was deathly still and so cold, but Shiro held his smaller hand in his, wishing with every breath that Lance would make it. That he’d come back to him.

And that night, just when Shiro’s eyelids had begun to droop, the hand in his twitched.

It was like a bucket of ice water had been dumped over his head. Shiro was more awake than he’d been in hours. He stood up, knocking his chair to the floor, and bent over Lance.

Shiro nearly wept for joy when Lance’s eyelids fluttered open. He was pale, but practically glowing, and suddenly Shiro was reminded of every time he’d woken up beside this beautiful man. How he’d wake him with a kiss, so grateful to have such a wonderful, kind, compassionate person in his life.

“Lance?” he breathed, lifting the other’s hand to his lips and kissing his knuckles.

Lance made a noise. A questioning whimper. And Shiro squeezed his hand tighter.

“Baby, I’m here,” he promised. “I’m here.”

“Hungry…” Lance sat up slowly. His eyes grew large, his pupils dilating as his gaze lowered to Shiro’s neck. “Hungry…”

Shiro opened his mouth to invite Lance to feed, but before he had a chance, the other pounced, knocking him to the floor and sinking his fangs in without preamble. Shiro winced and gripped at Lance’s back, but didn’t stop him. He needed this. And Shiro would do anything for him.

Finally, just as Shiro was starting to feel lightheaded, Lance pulled away, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand and smearing blood across his face. He licked at the mess he’d made of his fingers before meeting Shiro’s gaze, his eyes impossibly dark.

Then, as if realizing what he’d just done, Lance ripped his hand away, staring down at his blood-stained knuckles. He opened his mouth and let out a high-pitched scream, scrambling away from Shiro until his back hit the edge of the mattress.

“What’s happened to me?” he asked, wide eyes taking in the droplets of Shiro’s blood on the floor between them. “What’s going on?”

“You got hurt,” Shiro explained, trying to remain calm and keep his distance, despite every fiber of his being longing to hold and comfort Lance. “You lost a lot of blood and we had no other choice-”

“We?” Lance interrupted, confused.

“I can explain it fully later, but right now, you need to rest,” Shiro said in his best soothing tone. “You’ve been through a lot.” He moved closer, reaching a hand up to smooth Lance’s hair. “I…I almost lost you.”

Lance flinched away, his brow creased as he stared up at him with fear in his eyes. Then he uttered the question that cut through Shiro worse than the cold outside.

“Who are you?”

**Author's Note:**

> Oh no!!  
I actually wrote two endings for this, but this was the more dramatic of the two! 
> 
> P.S. I'm sure they'll be _fiiiiine_.
> 
> As always, let me know what you think with a comment and feel free to hit me up on tumblr @bleucheesy or on Twitter @bySharkGirl~


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